Arms Deal
by Vengeful Soldier
Summary: Be careful around an old man in a profession where men die young.
1. Chapter 1

Many people believe that the arms trade is an invention of the 20th century. A means of getting rich off the deaths of human beings. This is simply not the case. The people purchasing those weapons do so to acquire the strength to see their dreams become reality. There are nearly infinite reasons that people will pick up a weapon. Some do it for an Empire they hold absolute. For a power that they wish to see last forever.

 _Gaul, Time of the Roman Empire_

The patterns of attack, defense, riposte, block, and parry were long and well drilled into Centurion Peregrinus' mind and body. So much so that it made the act of killing no more than a well rehearsed chore.

As a member of Legio VII, he had been campaigning in Gaul with Caesar for the past 12 seasons. Fighting the tribes of Gaul and gaining great riches and glory under the leadership of the head of the Julia household. But more than that, it was glory for Caesar, glory for the legion. Glory, for Rome.

The ambush by the Averni had not been entirely unexpected, but it had caught them off guard, and already Peregrinus' cohort was down to less than half of its strength, though the growing mound of bodies opposite to them was a testament to the fighting prowess of the men of the seventh.

The woad painted warriors were fearsome though, even to the legionnaires of mighty Rome. Their deaths would be in service to the Empire, so that it would stand yet another millennium. There was only one problem however. Peregrinus and his cohort were the Eagle Cohort. They carried the Eagle of the entire VII Legion. To lose it would be to lose the heart of the Legion. To have them seen as outcasts. He would never allow that.

Blood ran in streams down Peregrinus' body, none of it his own. He overpowered his enemies with the ferocity of his blows and with the skill of his strokes. No one could withstand him. But there were so many Gauls, and so few of his men remaining. A mere handful.

The man charged with carrying the eagle, the signifier, fell. His throat a bloody gash as Gallic iron parted it like a woman's legs. The Gaul scarce had time to revel in his triumph before Peregrinus was upon him, Roman Iron removing his head from his shoulders.

"Form up on me! Form up on the Eagle!" bellowed Peregrinus, bashing a Gaul to the ground with his shield before thrusting his gladius through the barbarians heart.

"To the centurion!" came the calls back from his legionnaires and it wasn't long before the were standing shoulder to shoulder with each other. Fighting the way that the legion was meant to fight. As a unit, as one for the glory of Rome.

The smells of blood, sweat, leather, and iron filled Peregrinus' nose, as well as the smell of shit from the split bellies of more than one man. His muscles burned from the exertion, ached from the battering of holding back repeated blows, but he refused to let up for even a moment. He couldn't, not with the eagle of the Seventh Legion at stake.

There was only one hope to spare the legion from shame and that was to get the Eagle to safety. Right now, that safety was the trio of equite scouts watching the battle from the treeline. Even if it cost Peregrinus his life and that of every man under his command, the Eagle would NOT be lost.

"PUSH!" yelled Peregrinus and as one his legionnaires lashed out with their shields, pushing the Gauls back and advancing into them. Peregrinus gave a short series of whistle blasts and his remaining men formed a rough wedge around him.

For every foot they advanced through the Gauls, the lost another legionnaire, but they fought like demons with every step. As determined as Peregrinus to see the Eagle to safety.

Peregrinus fought with reckless abandon, like a man possessed, his gladius but a blur as it slashed back and forth, shield moving as if on its own accord blocking and bashing the Gauls around him. The Eagle of the Seventh strapped to his back.

When only four of his men remained, Peregrinus broke through the ring of Gauls and sprinted for the Equites.

"Take it!" shouted Peregrinus, throwing the eagle standard to the Equites just as a spear lanced through his calf, bringing him to his knees. Searing white hot pain shooting through his leg and up into his body. Yet a smile spread across his face as he watched the Equites turn and ride hard for the main body of the legion.

Peregrinus struggled to his feet and turned to face the Gauls as something heavy hit him in the chest. It bounced off and fell to the ground. It was the head of one of his legionnaires, still encased in its helmet. Barbarians, every last one of them. Catcalls and taunts came from the Averni facing him. They had no reason to rush their kill, he was theirs and they knew it.

"Come then Gauls, see how a Roman dies. You should see how a man dies at least once in your life. GLORIA ROMAE! CAESAR AD GLORUM! UT LEGIO SEPTIMA GLORIA!" Peregrinus charged the Gauls with the name of Rome on his lips. For the Eternal city, he would fight. For the Eternal city, he would die.

xxx

"I told you that the iglas wouldn't sell. People like American built weapons. Makes them think they're all technologically superior and shit. Bloody yanks."

"But the iglas are just as good, better even for the price. I mean if I was trying to sell them strelas I could understand, but iglas? I mean those things are like a spear from god against aircraft."

"But they're not American love. Not shiny."

"Oh pooh," answered back the other woman's employer and aspiring arms dealer. Her name was Ingrid Koskinen, a Finnish national who had discovered at an early age her love for weapons and their function. Going so far as to take a machinists course to learn how to even make them herself, much to her high society family's dismay.

She looked almost too delicate to be a merchant of death. Fair Scandinavian features and complexion framed by shoulder length blonde hair, all framing a face holding eyes as gray as high quality steel and just as sharp. She was slender and dainty, but with barely perceivable scars on her hands and callouses on her fingers. She looked like she would be more at home on a runway showing off the latest designs, not field stripping an AK or grinding a piece of metal to replace a slide on a pistol. She was dressed in a long beige skirt and blouse with a string of pearls around her neck and a pout on her face. A parasol lazily leaned against her shoulder to protect her marble complexion from burning in the sun.

Her employee and bodyguard was Alice Montgomery, a former member of the British Royal Marines and actually barely older than her employer at twenty five. She had a messy mop of black hair that fell somewhere down by her jaw that she tried endlessly to keep in check and she had the build of an Olympic athlete. Scars on her knuckles and another small one that cut through her left eyebrow told of a life used to violence. She was dressed in a simple set of khaki cargo pants and a black long sleeved shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Whereas her employer wore dress shoes, Alice wore desert issue combat boots and instead of a parasol she carried an La85a2 on a sling and wore a light bullet proof vest over her shirt. Her eyes were an icy blue and were always moving, trying to keep everything in sight in case anything was a threat.

"I'm hungry. Are you hungry?" asked Ingrid to her compatriot.

"I could go for a bite yeah."

"Excellent, then please go and get us some food."

"Okay, but if I go off on a jaunt who's going to keep an eye on you? Or give you a ride around the city, because I would be taking the car."

An expression like she had just dropped her ice cream cone came over Ingrid's face and she smiled sheepishly.

"I suppose that I didn't think of that. How about we go off together then?"

"Fine by me."

"Excellent. Tell me, do you know how to speak Arabic?"

"Um...no. That was the translators job, and his contract got finished."

"Oh, well that does put us in quite a predicament. They really do say no in a rather uncivilized way. But I suppose that once we get back to the city center it shouldn't prove too much trouble to find someone to translate for us. Tell me, who do you think would buy our iglas now?"

"Any militia group, though I doubt you'd get as good a price for them. And I don't really like dealing with fundamentalists. Fucking crazy lot so far as I'm concerned. Probably stone you for being dressed indecently too."

"Oh posh, you're far too negative my dear Alice. I always make my sale and I always get paid."

"Yes you do," admitted Alice. It was true too, while Ingrid might suffer setbacks from time to time she always found another buyer and always made a profit and always came out unscathed. Surprisingly.

"Though I would suggest putting that rifle of yours under the seat, you can't walk around a city with a gun worn so openly, and that bullet proof vest simply will not do."

"I'm surprised that you haven't got blisters all over your feet from walking through the desert in dress shoes. Would have been nice if they would have at least given us a ride back to our car."

"SUV my dear Alice. For one being from the United Kingdom, your English skills could certainly use some work."

"Get stuffed," retorted Alice dryly.

"Oh my dear Alice, if you are offering I don't think I could refuse."

"I didn't mean it like that," said Alice quickly as her employer went right into her personal bubble and leaned her head onto her shoulder, wrapping her free arm around Alice as they walked.

"No? Oh, don't be such a tease then my dear Alice," said Ingrid with seemingly genuine disappointment as she went back to walking without leaning on her bodyguard.

A short time later they were both sitting at a cafe eating sandwiches and drinking coffee under a large canopy.

"I must say that I don't think I enjoy Yemen too much. Far too hot for my liking, and too rude at doing business," said Ingrid as she wolfed down her sandwiches in a way that would make most people stare. She ate like she hadn't eaten in weeks and with a ferocious hunger.

"Yeah, I guess," said Alice disinterested, checking her phone for any texts or missed calls.

"By the way I've hired another bodyguard."

"You what?" said Alice for once actually shocked. Despite herself she felt a flicker of anger spark in her, like Ingrid hiring another bodyguard was somehow saying that she wasn't good enough and so she needed more protection.

"Well me hiring him isn't so accurate I suppose. My father is, lending him? Is that the word?" wondered Ingrid aloud, putting a finger to her chin. "Anyways I've been told by my father that he's always worried about my well being so he convinced his partners to lend me this man to act as my bodyguard. He's told me that he's very good, but quiet."

"And who is he exactly?"

"I don't know. I was cleaning my colt at the time so I was only really half paying attention to what he was saying. I think he's North American, or North European. Not too sure, can't remember, anyways what I do know is that his name is Henry and he'll be waiting for us at the hotel."

"And you've waited till now to tell me? This is the kind of thing you really should be telling me Ingrid. What if when we get back he's in the room and I think he's there to kill you and I shoot him?"

"Well then I suppose that he'd be dead and I tell my father that he met an unfortunate end saving me in a deal gone wrong," said Ingrid with a far too happy look on her face.

"I can't tell if you're just ditsy, crazy or a psycho sometimes love."

"A little of everything I would suppose," said Ingrid still smiling.

Xxx

"Alice I do believe you can put that gun away. I do believe that Mr. Henry has taken care of our unexpected guest," said Ingrid standing over the body of a man with a broken neck A silenced pistol just out of reach of his hand. Sitting on the bed nonchalantly was a man wearing a balaclava and dark wrap around sunglasses as well as desert combat fatigues.

"You don't pay me to take chances ma'am," said Alice, keeping her P226 trained squarely on the man sitting on the bed, who seemed unconcerned about the gun pointing at him. "Now get up hands up slowly. Nice and slowly and don't move," said Alice walking forwards like a SWAT officer clearing an office complex. She kicked the pistol to the far side of the room away from the man on the bed who hadn't moved an inch.

"I said hands up or I will shoot yo-hngh," grunted Alice in surprise and pain as in one smooth motion the man on the bed stood up, disarmed her, and forced her to the ground with her arm in a lock and a knee in the middle of her back.

"I am disappointed in you Miss Montgomery. I had assumed that a Royal Marine would have known to keep distance and not close within striking distance when they had a gun and their target did not. I do, however, applaud your action with removing a potential weapon from my vicinity. A point in your favor, but you left Miss Kiskonen exposed as you advanced and standing in the doorway. If I had been intent on killing either of you I would have had another associate nearby to come in from behind. It is fortunate that this man laying on the floor did not have the same line of thinking as I did."

"Get the FUCK off of me!" growled Alice, trying to dislodge the man kneeling on her back.

"Another thing to remember is that when someone has you in a hold like this do not resist. Otherwise it is a simple matter for them to snap your arm. Like I could do now."

"Henry be a dear and get off of Alice," said Ingrid, a frown on her face. "And don't do that to her again."

"As you wish Miss Kiskonen," said Henry releasing Alice and standing up quickly. Alice stood up quickly too, but with a murderous look on her face.

"I should kick your bloody ass," seethed Alice, standing practically nose to nose with Henry who stared back from impassive black shades.

"With a pistol in your stomach?"

There was a moment of surprise, then shock and outrage when Alice felt her own pistol pressed ever so lightly against her belly.

"Henry, give Alice back her pistol. Alice, don't shoot Henry when you get your pistol back okay? Thank you," said Ingrid as Alice grabbed the proffered pistol back with a quick swipe and holstered it in in a quick motion. Glaring the whole time.

"I assume that you have taken measures to have this mess cleaned up?" asked Ingrid, picking up her already packed suitcase from the bed.

"A cleaning crew is on their way and will be here momentarily. I have already booked reservations at a hotel several blocks from here."

"So we're going there then?" asked Ingrid.

"No, there are many small inns that don't ask questions and only take cash. We'll find one of them and stay there for the night. Our flight leaves in the morning."

"What flight? We haven't sold our stock yet," said Alice stiffly. Henry cocked his head quizzically to the side.

"But a deposit has already been made to the Consortium's bank account," said Henry sounding perplexed.

"What?"

"It's true," said Ingrid, forever in her chipper mood and adopting a what can you do posture. "I already sold them to a rival group to the one I tried to sell them to today. I was going to tell them a week after they bought them that they had been intercepted and stolen by their rivals and their men escorting the convoy killed. I _was_ hoping to further the conflict between them to make more sales to both, but I suppose that they just didn't want to buy from me," finished Ingrid with a sigh. "I suppose there's always next time though."

"Henry I do have to ask, how did my father manage to find you? Waggle a big fat paycheck in front of your face? Recruit a blood thirsty killer from America's military? I do so detest having my father interfere in my affairs, even if he does outrank me."

"It was a favor to him ma'am, to keep you safe."

"And I assume he's paying you then? I certainly hope he doesn't want me to pay for the expenses of an added bodyguard I didn't ask for."

"My fee has already been arranged and taken care of ma'am. Is there anything else you wish to question me about, or can we move out?"

"Fine, let's go. Come along Alice," said Ingrid with a simple gesture of her hand and walking out the door and leaving her two bodyguards behind."

"Does she always have this much disregard for her safety, or is this just another of her ways to test me?" asked Henry to Alice.

"Fuck off," spat out Alice heatedly, taking her own belongings and following Ingrid out the door. Henry stared for a moment before following them out.

Xxx

It had been two years since Henry had joined their merry little band of arms dealers and Alice still didn't know what to make of him. He was an enigma so to speak. He would talk when spoken to or when it pertained to the mission, but other than that he was as silent as the grave. It seemed that he never slept either.

He would sleep maybe two hours a night so far as she could tell, then be up keeping watch for the rest of it. They only ever rented one room now when they traveled, meaning that Henry always slept first, usually before Alice or Ingrid went to bed and what Alice considered only to be a nap, then he would be up and about. He was a little handsome too, if somewhat unemotional. It made it nice to know that he wouldn't be drooling over Ingrid or her like some of the other creeps out there while they slept. He was clean too, orderly, and traveled lightly. Alice couldn't ever think of a time when she had seen him with stubble or been unkempt.

His dirty blonde hair was always neatly kept to a near military standard and his clothing was always pressed, hell, he even pressed Alice's clothes and Ingrid's for them as well and he did a better job than most dry cleaners.

In fact he seemed like more of a servant than a bodyguard. He would prepare their meals, do their laundry or see that it got done, drive them around, arrange their accommodations, and really get them anything else that they wanted. But when it came to fighting, he actually scared Alice a little bit.

The man had no fear of death at all. They had only gotten in two fights from deals gone south and each time Henry had gone through them like a one man demolition team. Alice wanted to say that he fought with reckless abandon, but that wasn't true. He didn't just charge in spraying them down or slashing viciously, it was always quickly, but precisely. And he was fast when he killed. A heartbeat and he took down six men. A step and everyone but them in the room was dead. He never yelled or screamed when he fought, never raised his voice. Every time that Alice had watched him fight, he had been silent. It was almost eery.

So with that it always made it awkward to sit with him and watch Ingrid work her magic when they were selling weapons. Especially now that they were in Southern Russia and selling basically the exact same things that HCLI and whatever the other company was called to the same major.

"So where do you want to go when you die?" asked Alice to Henry as they watched over Ingrid from a partially collapsed wall they were using as a seat. There was a smell of sewer in the air from the ruptured sewer line, faint, but entirely there as well as the smell of smoke, gunpowder, and brick dust.

Alice was dressed in common green camouflage uniform complete with combat boots and a medium strength bullet proof vest. Her trusty La85a2 sitting on her lap. Henry was dressed similarly, but was wearing a balaclava and his bullet proof vest was heavy military with heavy ceramic plates. Thing must have weighed close to forty or fifty pounds, but he moved like it didn't bother him at all.

Alice didn't really expect an answer from Henry, he seldom did answer, even when asked a question. Alice had assumed that it was because he was simply an anti social asshole, but the more she worked with him, the more she realized that he was completely focused when on a mission. Beneath his dark sunglasses, she could see his eyes constantly moving. So she was more than a little surprised when he actually did answer after a few minutes.

"Valhalla. Perhaps the realm of Pluto."

"Really? Why there? Looking for some good food and drink while you wait for the end of the world?"

"No. If it does exist, I have a lot of friends waiting there for me. I would like to see them again."

Alice was a little surprised at Henry's admission. He never talked about himself, his past, or even if he preferred a certain kind of food over another. He acted so robotic sometimes it almost seemed like he was one half the time. Was he actually starting to come out of his shell? Even still, it was a little too emotional for Alice.

"Puffy white clouds and a spot with the big man not good enough for ya?" prodded Alice and very nearly fell off her wall when Henry actually started to laugh.

"The men I've served with wouldn't fit in too well up there. Most believed that they would go there and wished to, but I believe that they'd get _bored_ and start trouble," chuckled Henry, an unusual levity to his voice. There was something below the levity though, something like deep sorrow, but it was hard to tell because it was only there for an instant.

"Well that's why I want to get in there. Trouble's my middle name," said Alice. "They've had it too good for too long up there anyways. What good's eternal peace without some excitement every once in a while huh?"

"You know Alice, I like you."

"You coming on to me love?" asked Alice genuinely curious. She could almost see the smile underneath Henry's balaclava though.

"No, you're just good company to be around. I enjoy the levity."

"Really? Then what's with Mr. Robot all the time? This is the most I've got you to talk ever in a single sitting and I damned well can't remember you ever doing it outside of a task or some shit like that, so what's up?"

"Well, I suppose that I am guarded most of the time and I don't trust people easily."

"Holy shit mate, Russia cast a spell on you? You going to tell me your life story now, because me and Ingrid have been taking bets and let me tell you good sir. Not many of them are positive about you I have to say too," finished Alice with a smile.

"I can imagine. Anyways I wanted to tell you that this deal is going to turn a little south for us."

"Oh? How so," said Alice, the levity leaving her voice as her ice chip blue eyes started scanning the faces around them with renewed scrutiny.

"That man's communications equipment has been destroyed, which means that he'll want a new one and he seems new enough to the game to think that because he has soldiers he can bully his dealers with threats to get him a new one immediately. There are two of here able to get a replacement immediately, HCLI, and us."

"So should we get ready for a fight?"

"No. It won't be that confrontational. We'll most likely be given _protection_ but not allowed to leave until we get him what he wants."

"What's so bad about that then?"

"I don't think this man can pay what he owes. He has maybe several hundred men tops. With what he's already paid for weapons from the three groups here and his lack of significant backers I imagine he's going to want to run a tab with us."

"Princess doesn't take cheque or credit."

"No she does not," agreed Henry.

"So the plan to go with them as far as they'll allow, tie them up and make a break for it?"

"Or shoot them."

"Why do you always want to shoot them?" asked Alice.

"Less complicated that way. Fewer bodies to pursue us and less chance of one of them getting free and warning their commander."

"Looks like Princess is done," said Alice getting to her feet.

"Another successful sale!" proclaimed Ingrid loudly and cheerily, pulling Alice into a tight hug. "But we've got a problem to take care of now," she whispered into Alice's ear as she was hugging her. "Be ready for it."

"Easy as pie love."

xxx

Alice was driving along the pipeline that they were all fighting for in this region, heading up the mountain to where they'd be able to get a signal to order the equipment that the major wanted. The major had also sent along two of his supposedly elite soldiers to keep them safe on the way. Both men armed with Kalashnikov rifles and both men seemed to be very unhappy about their new assignment. Alice knew that they wouldn't actually let them leave the valley though, not until the equipment that they wanted showed up.

Only thing being though, was that they weren't going to get the equipment, because the major had all but said that they couldn't afford it right now, and Ingrid did not make payment plans. She took half up front, half on delivery. No exceptions. Things would have gone much closer to their plans if the younger of the soldiers in the backseat had kept his hands to himself.

Ingrid had been patient, forgiving even as Alice watched in the rear view mirror, but she quickly saw that she was reaching her limit. When the mans wandering hands finally tried to wander up Ingrid's skirt, the princess had had enough.

"Henry, go with plan B," said Ingrid looking straight ahead. Without a moments hesitation and moving so quick that Alice would have missed it had she not been watching Henry broke the young soldiers neck before pulling out a knife and stabbing the other soldier through the neck that was sitting in the front seat.

Alice swerved the car a little bit before she relaxed again from the sudden violence, the metallic coppery scent of blood rapidly filling the car as the man bled out next to her. It took a little while but his twitches finally subsided and when he stopped bleeding Henry let him go. He slumped forwards, straining against the seatbelt holding his corpse in place, his fatigues stained red and his open but unseeing.

"Alice be a dear and stop the car. We need to offload a few things," said Ingrid calmly, but looking a little more green than normal. Despite being somewhat used to the violence it still seemed to affect her though she did her best not to show it.

"Sure thing Ma'am," said Alice pulling the car off to the side of the road. She and Henry quickly dragged the bodies out and threw them into the ditch before climbing back into the car. Henry seemed to have no qualms about the bloody passenger side because he sat right in it without so much as a word, his balaclava covered features giving away nothing.

They continued on for a while in the car until they reached the base of the mountain where they parked the car on the side of the road and ditched it. Alice still had her British bullpup rifle, but only shook her head at Henry's 'choice' of weaponry. The man just loved vintage weaponry.

"Love, why don't you join us in the twenty first century?" asked Alice bemused as they cut a path up through the mountains forest.

"It works," was all Henry answered back.

Indeed, if one were to see what Henry had armed himself with they would wondered if he was from a bygone era. A bolt action German Mauser 98k with a scope was in his hands and on his back was a 45acp Thompson submachine gun. Both weapons now over sixty years old and terribly obsolete by modern standards. His sidearm was of the same vintage, but at least it was a reliable 1911 pistol. In fact the most modern weapons that Alice had ever seen him use was the AK47 or M16 assault rifles.

"Are you planning on invading France with that rifle or something?" jabbed Alice.

"Maybe in the next century."

"Smart ass," muttered Alice before adopting silence and moving carefully.

They made good time considering the terrain, but after an hour they had to duck into cover as a patrol of soldiers wandered by. Henry had his Mauser slung, but tracked them the entire time with his Thompson, watching them go by.

It smelled earthy where they were, the decaying leaves and plants more pungent with the fresh rain from the night before, the damp soil cool, even through their clothes where they knelt, creating wet spots. Sun filtered through the leaves overhead, but the sun had begun to arc down in the sky and it would only be a few more hours till sunset, though the light hadn't turned golden yet.

The soldiers passing by in the patrol were poorly disciplined, or at the very least lacked noise discipline. They talked amongst themselves, loudly like they were in a cafe or bar, some even laughed. If they were army, they were third rate reservists in terms of discipline, but as for combat skills, Alice and Henry didn't know.

Henry had them wait ten minutes after the last of them had passed by before he signaled them to move on. There would be an extraction helicopter inbound another kilometer ahead for them. All they had to do was make it there in one piece and wait for the helo.

Henry had never talked about his service or where he had gotten his military experience, but the man moved like a tiger stalking his prey. He was damn near silent and he used the terrain and cover like he had lived here all his life.

Every so often he would stop and hold up his fist for them to do the same and then he would just listen. He would be completely still, looking like he wasn't even breathing, then after differing amounts of time would signal them to keep moving. Sometimes in the same direction, sometimes on a slightly different course.

After about half an hour of moving like this, Henry held up his hand again, forcing all present to go down to a knee and stop. Everyone present strained their ears and they quickly heard the faint, but growing thrum of a helicopter.

"Ours or one of their?" asked Alice quietly.

"It will be our extraction. The major and his men did not and do not possess attack or transport helicopters, said Ingrid primly. "They will be picking us at at our secondary extraction point further up the mountain. Though I would suggest that we hurry. I do imagine that the major's men won't be too far behind once they see the helicopter."

The clearing turned out to be a rocky meadow with a couple of rocks that one could call boulders if they felt so inclined, but the interesting thing was that their extraction was already sitting there. A puma helicopter was parked with the flight crew sitting at the controls and a pair of Consortium mercenaries standing at the ramp leading into it.

"See, what I tell you? Easy as pie," said Alice smiling. The smile vanished with a snap of rifle fire that took her in the back. Her face went to a look of shock and pain as she fell.

"Rifle fire, get down Ma'am," said Henry grabbing Alice by her webbing and pulling her behind a boulder. Ingrid on the other hand, instead of getting down like Henry had said was making a beeline for the puma and sprinting. The pair of Consortium mercenaries were firing into the treeline as was the crew chief or gunner on board the puma. The a whine that was steadily building to a roar, the puma started to come to life, its rotors whirring.

Alice stared at the helicopter in a state of shock, vision getting fuzzy and watching as Ingrid, bullets kicking up dirt at her heels quickly ran up the ramp into it, the pair of mercs following close on her heels. Then watched the ramp close and the helicopter begin to climb into the air.

"She left, she fucking left us," murmured Alice numbly, barely hearing the high powered _crack_ of Henry's rifle next to her or the smooth _click-clack_ of him working the bolt.

She tried to get up, but equal parts searing pain and weakness spread through her, making her vision dim for a moment before she blinked and it returned to normal, although she was panting now, even though it hurt to breathe now.

"Henry, you've got to go, I can't fucking move and the bitch left us to die. Get out of here."

If Henry heard her he gave no sign, just rammed a stripper clip full of bullets into his rifle as rounds thudded and sparked off of the boulder they were hiding behind, sending rock chips and dust flying into the air. She couldn't read his face behind his balaclava, the dull black fabric obscuring everything.

"I'll be right back," said Henry. A moment after that he was up and running, but towards the men who were shooting at them and Alice lost sight of him.

Henry was running, the rounds hissing at him like angry snakes as they missed him by inches as he zigzagged between the rocks for cover. He slid in behind a boulder, rifle already up to his shoulder and bringing a face in line with the cross hairs. The saw the man shift his aim towards him, but Henry pulled the trigger before he did and watched a spray of red leave the mans head out the back and crumple down. Sweeping right another man fell into Henry's sights and he squeezed the trigger, hitting the man in the heart, the heavy 8mm Mauser round punching through the mans light armor and body like it was paper. Henry cycled the bolt without breaking his aim and found another soldier who came out from behind a tree and fired a burst towards him, hitting wide by at least eight feet. As he tried to get back behind cover, Henry put a bullet through his center mass. Not an instant kill, but he would be out of the fight for the moment anyways. A fourth man tried to advance, but Henry shot hit through the throat and the man stumbled forwards another step before he fell to the ground and lay still. Henry fired another shot, hitting a man in the vitals who simply crumpled to the ground lifelessly.

Henry tossed a pair of smoke grenades that threw up thick grew smoke that obscured him from the treeline where the enemy soldiers were shooting them him from and used the screen to reposition and reload his 98K. He hadn't come armed for a long fight, he only had the five rounds left for the Mauser and then he'd have to get in close. Then again, he'd never shied away from that before.

He put down the Mauser and brought out the Thompson, flipping the safety off. In WW2 an experienced Thompson submachine gunner could hit a man at a hundred yards with a burst of fire. Henry did just that and sent a man tumbling back as the old workhorse sent a grouping of heavy .45acp into his chest. These men were inexperienced, and starting to panic. Henry would fire and move. Fire and move. Each time taking down another of their number and throwing grenades into their midst. The idea was to make them think that they were fighting multiple enemies with fire coming from so many different directions and grenades going off. It was working too. They were losing cohesion.

They were firing blindly into the smoke, where Henry had been but not where he was. They couldn't find his silhouette in the smoke, but he could see theirs, having gotten used to picking out even the tiniest of movements, the majors men didn't stand a chance. Most of them weren't even wearing body armor which left them incredibly vulnerable to the firepower of the Thompson.

Sprinting the last few meters and Henry was in amongst them. The first man's eyes widened at seeing Henry next to him, before his whole skull disappeared in a gory spray to the hungry chatter of the Thompson. Henry killed the two men next to him as well, emptying the magazine in his Thompson and reloaded with practiced ease. Twenty rounds didn't sound like a lot, but in the right hands, it might as well have been endless.

Quick, clean bursts brought down another fire team and there weren't too many of them left now, but Henry was out of ammo for his Thompson and the bolt locking back seemed to mock him as he came upon another trio of soldiers.

The first drew a bead on Henry, but grunted and staggered in pain as the Thompson itself hit him in the face, Henry following close behind his thrown weapon, grabbing the man and throwing him into his comrade behind him. Then just as quickly Henry drew his 1911 from his hip holster and shot the other soldier, the heavy pistol barking and kicking in his hand, making the Russian topple backwards minus a piece of his skull. Then Henry pressed the pistol to the back of the mans head who was entangled with the other soldier and pulled the trigger twice sending the two bullets through both of the two mens skulls.

Henry emptied the pistol towards another small group of Russians, rolling behind a tree and running into a dip as bullets kicked us dirt by his feet and set wood splinters racing past his face.

With a satisfied clack, the pistol took another magazine and Henry emptied it just as quickly, only killing one other soldier and wounding another firing on the run as he was. Before he could load his last magazine though, Henry ran into another one of the soldiers quite literally. Henry reacted first, grabbing the man and driving his knee into his stomach, then as he crumpled in two threw him to the ground and plunged his knife into his heart.

There was just three left and Henry rushed them, out of options as they took aim at him. Henry pulled a tomahawk off his hip and threw it as he ran and with a solid _thunk_ it stuck into the skull of one of the soldiers. The other two could have emptied their rifles into him though, at this range they couldn't miss. But they were terrified. The man who had wiped out their whole platoon was now coming for them, and one of them turned and started running, the other fumbled trying to replace the magazine on his rifle.

Henry stabbed him in the neck, quick and precise through the jugular and let him fall, gurgling to the ground. The last man he caught running and drove his knife through his back and into his heart. He exhaled sharply when Henry stabbed him, shuddered a few times, then fell silent. Henry let him fall, and retrieved his tomahawk from the face of the dead soldier which came free with a meaty sucking sound.

Four minutes. That's how long it took from the first round being fired to Henry stabbing the last of the major's men and ending their assault. This came so easy to Henry after all of these years now. Even now his hands were steady and it seemed that he was so hardened to killing that all it took was a moment to make sure they were all dead and he was double timing it back to Alice reloading his pistol with the last mag. He thought about leaving the Mauser behind, but picked it up and slung it over his shoulder. It could still come in handy.

Henry found Alice with her vest off and shirt removed, with her torso bandaged where she had been shot, but she looked very pale and clammy. Her gaze looked unfocused and she looked sleepy. Her breathing was deathly quiet and shallow, but she looked up at him and there was still a spark of life in her.

"The fuck are you love?"

"Alive, and so are you for the moment. We need to get you out of here and to a doctor."

Alice grinned weakly at him, but it seemed she was fighting to stay awake.

"I ain't going to make it love. Besides you can't carry me."

The sound of ripping Velcro followed by a thud, and Henry's heavy and expensive ceramic plate vest hit the ground.

Pulling out his knife, Henry cut straps and clasps from the vest, before doing the same to Alice's vest and taking the sling off of his his rifle and hers. Finally satisfied with his creation, Henry attached Alice to him like a rucksack, though she hissed in pain as he picked her up.

"I'm not going to make it love," said Alice weakly.

"Then I'll drop you when you die, until then you're coming with me," snapped back Henry.

"You're a real sweetheart you know that? Or maybe you just wanted to tell people that you got a hold of my ass eh love?" murmured back Alice with a chuckle, before slumping forwards onto Henry's back. Her breathing was shallow and weak which worried him. Henry did like Alice, she was a smart soldier and she was a good sort to be around. He shouldn't be moving her, but if didn't she wouldn't make it. He had to try.

Henry didn't know how long her ran for, but eventually the sun set and the temperature started to drop. His legs were burning and it felt like there were iron filings in his lungs, sweat stinging his eyes as he tried to blink it away, and he was so thirsty. He had learned a long time ago in another life though that you marched or you died and continued on undeterred.

"Henry, we need to take a break," came Alice's voice, quiet and distant from his back. Wordlessly, Henry slowed and stopped, carefully undoing the harness and lowering her to the ground underneath a tree.

"How are you feeling?" asked Henry.

"Like shit, felt like my body was on fire, but now It just feels fucking numb. I feel dizzy too."

Henry looked at her dressing and saw that it was soaked through crimson. He could change the bandage, but what she really needed was a doctor and a hospital. Henry had access to neither of those things and he didn't have access to anything besides a basic first aid kit.

"I'm going to change the bandages," said Henry, prepping the field dressings on the ground next to her.

"Hey Henry. Look, I'm grateful that you're trying so damned hard to help me, but I ain't gonna make it love. Look, I have a favor to ask you okay?"

"What do you want," asked Henry, keeping pressure on the wound as he cleaned and changed the dressing on the wound on either side of Alice's body. It was a through and through, but it looked like she had been hit by more than one bullet.

"I have a sister. Her name's Elizabeth, but just call her Liz when you see her. She fucking hates Elizabeth," chuckled Alice before having the chuckles turn into a coughing fit. "She lives in Edinburgh, crazy redhead was in the paras for a bit. She's never been any good with money and she's been waiting tables at some shitty Indian restaurant last couple of years. I've got some money saved up from doing this gig and I want her to get it yeah? Can you do that for me love?" asked Alice, handing a folded piece of paper to Henry.

"That's where she lives."

"The wound isn't bad, you'll make it, it'll just be uncomfortable so stop your whining. You'll be fine."

"You know, you're a lot softer than you let on," said Alice.

"How do you figure that?" asked Henry tightening up the new dressings.

"You suck at lying you know that love? You won't look me in the eyes when you tell me that I'm going to be fine. Also, your voice isn't Mr. Robot. You sound like you're afraid that I'm going to die."

Henry finished with the dressings after a final inspection of his work and gave a spare t-shirt to Alice to cover her up against the cold.

"Are you ready to move? It's a long ways yet before we'll be able to call for help or get you a doctor. Can you make it?"

"No, but I think that I'll make you carry me all the same. Also, take this eh love?" said Alice putting the folded paper into Henry's breast pocket. "Now that's my last request to ya eh? Don't want to forget about it or maybe I'll cause trouble for you before the man upstairs. That is if I'm not going for a hot tottie first yeah?"

"Just get ready to move," said Henry lifting Alice back up in her sling and cinching her to his back.

"Hey love, I do have one question for you though. Where did you serve?"

Henry was quiet for a few moments before he answered.

"I don't have time to tell you everything, but for years I served with the French Foreign Legion. That being said I've fought on every continent save for Antarctica and Australia."

"Bullshit, you don't look a day over thirty," said Alice, a defiant smirk on her pale face.

"I'm much older than thirty Alice."

"No shit? Well, I do like older men you know. But you're also a frog so I think that counts against you. But I won't discount you," said Alice slumping forwards and hissing as Henry started running again. She was silent after that. Her shallow breathing the only indicating that she was still alive.

Henry didn't know how many miles through the valley and up the mountain he had run, but all he knew was that it was a lot. Alice felt cold on his back, but she was breathing which was good, but if he didn't find her help soon she would die and Henry found that that thought bothered him quite a lot.

He hadn't agreed to her request, but he would do it all the same. You didn't refuse a last request. It just wasn't right.

He had grown fond of Alice's witty and crass company the last couple of years and had vested one of the few small parts of himself he had left in her. She had become one of his few friends and he refused to lose her. It seemed though that fate had other plans.

He was running up a dirt road leading towards the crest of the mountain, his mind focused on only running and breathing, maintaining proper form to conserve as much energy as possible. Perhaps it was his focus on his own breathing that made him notice the lack of Alice's.

Henry stopped running and listened. He didn't hear anything. With new found energy and sense of urgency, Henry undid his improvised harness and lowered Alice to the ground. She was corpse white and cold to the touch. Henry put his fingers to her throat. No pulse. Her wrist, no pulse. He put his ear right by her mouth. She wasn't breathing. Alice Montgomery was dead. Henry stared at her for a moment, feeling the piece he had invested of himself vanish with her but he had seen this happen far too many times to break down and weep. It left a hollow spot in him for a moment, but then as he had done for years he pushed it down and soldiered on.

"Valeur et Discipline mon cheri. You were a good soldier, perhaps in another life we will fight together again. Find peace if you want it, trouble if you desire it. I'm sorry I couldn't watch your back like you watched mine, but we both knew that there were never any guarantees in this life. I pray you forgive me all the same though."

His eulogy said, Henry picked up Alice bridle style and carried her off the main road. Using his tomahawk as a pick, he loosened up the dirt and scooped it away with his hands. It wasn't a deep grave he dug, but deep enough to keep scavengers from picking the flesh from her bones. He laid her in the grave gently and scooped the dirt back in on top of her. He took her knife and used it to make a makeshift cross that he stuck into the ground.

He didn't stay long after that, long enough to catch his breath and then he began trekking cross country parallel to the road, but hidden in the trees. Henry had fought in forests many times before, jungles too and the years spent moving quietly and unseen, trying to determine if he was the hunter or the hunted made silent movement more natural to him then walking down a street.

It was because of his long years of practice, that Henry heard the majors men, making their way noisily up the mountain though it was obvious that they were trying to be silent. It would be the easiest thing in the world to simply let them pass. To ignore them and move on. They were most likely going after the other arms dealers and their bodyguards. It was of no concern to him. But an image kept flashing through his head. The look of shock and pain on Alice's face as she fell to the ground. The pale but defiant face of the woman who was now dead.

Henry realized that he had his fists in a white knuckle grip and he felt the smoldering fires of rage building to an inferno in his gut. A rage that would only and could only be quenched with blood. He wouldn't let them get away with it, Alice's death demanded as much. More than that though, Henry wanted vengeance, craved it like a heroin addict does his needle. Henry took the tomahawk off his belt loop and spun it around, the black weapon glinting where the bare steel shone through. In his other hand Henry took out his combat knife, a simple K-bar. Without his armor weighing him down, he moved demon fast.

Xxx

"Koko, it looks like we're not going to be running into any opposition," came Lehm's voice crackling over the radio.

"No? What about the gunfire we heard earlier? Did they move on?" asked Koko, holding her hand to her headset.

"No, but they won't be tracking us anymore. Looks like the KI Bodyguards saw to that."

"Really? Just the two of them, or did they get reinforcements?" asked Koko surprised. She had expected at least platoon strength forces to come after them, if not more.

"No, it looks like just the one," answered Lehm over the radio.

"Just one?"

"Yeah, you're going to want to see this."

Koko escorted by the rest of her bodyguards, Valmet and Jonah especially came down the road leading away from the major's sphere of control came upon what one could only describe as a massacre. Cheap military surplus casings littered the ground with trees holed and branches splintered. It turned out that she had been right though, it had been platoon strength forces that had come after them, but they hadn't made it even halfway up the trail to the building that they had been in. They were all dead.

They were spread out, bullet casings surrounding them as if they had been shooting in all directions, most had laceration or stab wounds, though some had been shot. There was blood everywhere, splashed on the ground and trees like some mad artist throwing paint of a canvas and in the middle of all of it was a man sitting on a rotten tree that had fallen over, looking at the ground and blood still slowly dripping from the weapons that he held on his lap. Koko started walking up to him.

"Koko, wait," said Valmet concerned for Koko's safety near the gore covered man.

"I'll be fine," said Koko, brushing off Valmet's concerns. "Besides, you're all here with me right?"

"But Koko," insisted Valmet.

"I'll be fine," said Koko, continuing to advance on the gore covered man.

"You would be Henry right? Bodyguard for Ingrid Kiskonen from KI ltd right?"

"Yes, that's me," said Henry idly turning his tomahawk in his hand.

"Did you do all of this? I must admit that it's quite impressive, I trust that you are compensated well for your services?"

"Butchers work, and I'm paid well enough," answered back Henry.

"Am I to assume then that Miss Kiskonen is dead then?"

"No she's alive. She was extracted via helicopter."

"But you didn't go with her? Or she didn't wait for you?"

"You ask for too many questions for polite conversation Miss Hekmatyar. I bid you adieu," said Henry rising, bits of gore falling from his form as he did so.

"Are you sure that you aren't looking for new work now that your employer left you?" called out Koko to the Henry's retreating form.

"I've always got work to do Miss Hekmatyar. Always somebody who needs to die."


	2. Chapter 2

Others acquire weapons for a more mundane and self serving purpose. The pursuit of wealth. They acquire the weapons that they need, train their bodies and harden their hearts to take what they desire from those too weak to hold onto what they possess. The idea that if one is weak they do not deserve to keep what they own.

 _1066 AD Stamford Bridge, Northern England_

Sven Ragnarsson stood impassive on the bridge as he watched the English Army approach. A long axe balanced across his shoulders as his eyes peered out from the iron depths of his helmet. A fine wolf pelt draped across his armoured frame. Steel links of his chainmail armour glinting between the gaps. A great golden beard woven into braids fell halfway down his chest and waved in the chilly early morning breeze that spoke of a coming winter.

The sky was gray and overcast. Foreboding and unwelcoming, the sound of thousands of armoured boots marching in unison overpowering any other.

His liege Harold Hardrada and his army were unprepared for the English and even now were frantically trying to don their armour and get into ranks. It would take time, time that they didn't have. Which was why Sven was going to give it to them.

"Cold morning to be out for a walk. Perhaps you should walk back to London little Englishmen," said Sven when the English were close enough to hear him.

"In the name of the rightful King of England Harold Godwinson, you are hereby commanded to make way or be slain."

It was a noble looking man, not in bearing or looks but by quality of clothing and the fact he was atop a horse as he said it. He seemed like an officious sort, the kind who was entirely certain of his own authority and power.

"Make way?" pondered Sven aloud, idly rocking the longaxe on his shoulders back and forth.

"Mmm, no. I don't think so. You see I quite like this bridge. It just feels right you know? I quite enjoy standing here and I don't think I'll be moving any time soon. In fact, I doubt I'll even let anyone else cross it I like it so much."

"Enough of this nonsense, kill him," commanded the noble.

A spearman started forward and thrust out at the viking, only for Sven to bring his longaxe around in a loop so fast that the steel was merely a blur as it buried itself in the Englishman's skull. With a meaty sucking sound, Sven withdrew the axe and the Englishman fell to the ground dead. Sven promptly returned the axe to resting across his shoulders. Only now the edge dripping blood onto the bridge below.

"I'm sorry, you did mean for me to kill him didn't you?" asked Sven innocently.

"Kill him now!" demanded the noble, urging his men forwards. The first to reach Sven was also the next to die, legs swept out from under him by the twirling axe and chest parted by its blade.

The bridge was not wide, though it did ford the gap over the river. Perhaps wide enough for three men to stand abreast upon at most, and only allowing perhaps one or two to fight Sven at a time.

Sven cursed them, taunted them, shouted, roared, and laughed as he fought. He fought with wild ferocity and reckless abandon. He fought as a berserker, for in truth that was what he was. Man after man attempted to fight him and man after man met their end at the edge of his axe.

Blood ran from the bridge into the water below in steady streams, those now attempting to fight the berserker having to climb over their own dead to reach him.

"What's this now? Afraid are we? Come now Englishmen my axe is still thirsty!" taunted Sven at the English soldiers, cowering back from the Nordic raider. A growing mountain of their dead at the feet of what seemed to be a demon instead of a man. "Come now and help slake its thirst! Come on little English-ngh," grunted Sven as a spear stabbed him from below, finding a gap in his chainmail coat.

Below him in the river was one of the English soldiers in a boat, holding the spear that even now impaled him.

With a curse Sven broke the haft of the spear, but staggered, almost falling to his knees. The spear had gone in deep and he couldn't move his right arm. If the pain was any greater he was sure that his teeth would shatter from him clenching them so hard.

A spearman buoyed by Sven's mortal wound charged forwards to claim the kill. Instead Sven's axe claimed his skull as Sven swung it one-handed.

"Come now! I'm not dead yet!" roared Sven, hurling his longaxe into the English ranks before drawing his sword and barreled into their ranks hacking and slashing men apart heedless of the danger to himself. He claimed four more before an equal number of spears impaled him.

Blood dribbled from his mouth, staining his clenched teeth red. With a roar of primal rage, Sven drove his blade deep into an Englishman's neck a moment before another half dozen spears plunged into his flesh. Sven fell to the river below, and the English army continued on.

Xxx

"Lousy fucking job, lousy fucking flat, lousy fucking bills, lousy fucking ass grabbing boss," griped Liz to no one in particular, kicking off her shoes as she locked the door behind her and headed into her flat. Throwing down her toque revealed shockingly red hair that fell about her shoulders in messy crimson waves. She made for the kitchen and grabbed a can of beer out an old fridge that miraculously still worked before making her way to a well worn couch and plopped down on it. Sipping her beer, she began flipping through Netflix looking for something to watch.

A knock on her door annoyed her more than she thought possible and with a weary sigh she stood and made her way to the door. She opened it and was rather surprised to see a good looking man with neat trimmed blonde hair, dark blue eyes, and _expensive_ clothes filling her doorway. He was dressed in a dark double breasted greatcoat and black leather gloves adorned his hands. In fact, he was dressed all in black.

"You lost or something?"

"You are miss Elizabeth Montgomery?"

"Liz," said Liz testily.

"Excuse my mistake Miss Montgomery. My name is Henry Black. May I come in?"

"I don't want to buy anything," said Liz flatly.

"I'm not a salesman Miss Montgomery."

"Then what do you want?"

"It has to do with your sister."

Liz felt a wave of anger wash over her and quickly her bright blue eyes burned with ferocious intensity. 

"If she wants to talk to me she can fucking well visit me herself," snapped Liz, slamming the door, only for it to catch on the man's foot.

"Please Miss Montgomery, you are going to want to hear what I have to say," said the man quietly.

"Fine. Just shut the fucking door behind you," fumed Liz. "Want any tea, or a beer?"

"No, but thank you for your hospitality," said Henry taking off his shoes and wiping his feet before entering her apartment. His shoes were Hugo Boss. Probably cost more than she made in a month, thought Liz sourly to herself.

"So what does my beloved sister have to tell me that she felt she needed to send a messenger for? Too busy to give me a call?" demanded Liz sipping on her beer.

"She asked me to come her in her stead."

"You work for her or something?"

"I worked with her for two years as a close protection specialist."

"So you're bodyguards then? Wait, what do you mean worked with her? Alice quit or something? Never thought she'd give up a gravy train like that. I sure as fuck wouldn't," said Liz sipping her beer again.

"Miss Montgomery, I came here as a last request. Your sister is dead. She wanted me to give you this. Merely take it to a bank and give them the pass code enclosed. There you will have access to all the fund-"

"GET THE FUCK OUT!" shrieked Liz, throwing her nearly full can of beer into the wall, gouging the drywall and making fizzing beer explode out. "AND TAKE YOUR FUCKING MONEY WITH YOU, YOU FUCK!" snarled Liz, throwing the envelope back at Henry. If nothing else his unflappable calm made her even angrier.

He wiped a spot of foam from his face from the exploded beer and calmly put the envelope back on the table.

"It is not mine to take. If you so wish you may rip it up, but it is yours now. Your sister asked me to give it to you."

"Well I got it so now you can get the fuck out of my flat. Come on, get the fuck out!"

She hounded the man and when he was barely out the door she slammed it hard enough to wonder if it would shatter.

Liz was breathing hard, still trembling with rage when the first tear fell.

The anger drained away like blood from a wound and Liz's face twisted in an agony that no physical pain could cause. She brought her hands to face as she began to sob. She fell against the wall and slowly slid to the ground, drawing her knees up to her chest.

"Fuck Alice, how am I supposed to tell mom?" sobbed Liz.

Xxx

The next day at work, Liz felt like a zombie, numbly taking orders and clearing tables. How was she supposed to tell her parents that Alice was dead? How was she supposed to tell them that her big sister was dead? How was she supposed to deal with her sister being dead? How could she be dead? How?

Most of the day passed in a haze. It felt like she was living in a dream, only half aware of what was really going on around her. When she ate at lunch she didn't even taste her lunch. Even her mouth felt numb, unable to even focus on tasting food Liz ate mechanically.

Before she knew it, it was already dark outside and she was finishing wiping down tables and stacking chairs on top.

"You can do it quicker Elizabeth, you know I don't pay overtime."

"Yes Shray," answered Liz robotically to the portly middle aged Indian man who was also her boss. Putting in just that little bit of effort to move faster.

"I'm also going to need you to come in on Saturday and Sunday. We're holding a banquet and we need more servers."

"Yes Shray," said Liz again in a monotone, only half paying attention to what he was saying. Images of Alice flashing through her mind. How could she be gone? Liz had to blink several times times to clear her eyes of tears and she kept wiping the table.

"You know, if you really wanted I could give you a raise," said Shray, and Liz felt his hot breath on her neck that smelled of rotten curry and quite shortly afterwards his hand on her ass.

"How many times do I have to tell you? DON'T TOUCH MY ASS YOU SMELLY FUCK!" snapped Liz, breaking out of her stupor and lashing out. _Needing_ to lash out at something, anything. Anyone.

In the parachute regiments, Liz had been the a lightweight boxing champion and she put all that training and skill to use as she turned around and hit Shray for all she was worth. She knocked him back and watched him stumble before falling into the counter behind him. His head hit the corner and sank to the floor without a sound. He didn't move.

"Oh fuck," breathed Liz, walking up to the immobile man. She put a hand to his neck, but didn't feel a pulse. He was dead.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," repeated Liz over and over again like a mantra, backing up and clutching at her head.

A scream broke Liz out of her reverie and she saw Shray's wife run back into the kitchen, probably to call the police.

Liz felt like she might throw up and sat down heavily, breathing hard and put her head between her knees, holding it with her arms. What else could fuck up for her? Her mom was going to hear that Alice was dead and she was going to jail for murder.

"I see that you are having a bad day Miss Montgomery."

Liz looked up in disbelief and saw the man from the other night, Henry, standing directly in front of her, dressed again in his black Hugo Boss clothes. He had a small knife in one hand and an apple in the other. He cut a small slice from the apple and ate it.

"What are you doing here?" asked Liz numbly.

"I came to inform you that someone has apparently already emptied the account that your sister left to you, stealing a total of one million one hundred and thirty seven thousand eight hundred and fifty three pounds."

"I don't care about the goddamned money, I'm going to jail. I killed a man," said Liz pointing to the inert body of Shray, voice cracking as she did so.

"Not necessarily," said Henry calmly walking to the kitchen, eating another apple slice as he did so. He disappeared behind the double doors and an instant later the hysteric voice of Shray's wife was muted. Another moment later Henry walked back out of the kitchen with a rag, wiping crimson off the end of his knife.

"Holy fuck," was all Liz managed to blurt out.

"Holy fucking shit, you just killed her," continued Liz dumbly.

"It was quick, you needn't worry," assured Henry.

"That's no-what th- who th-what the fuck is going on!?"

"Everything is under control I assure you."

"Two people are dead! Holy shit, I work for them! Do you have any idea how fucked up this is!?"

"Intimately."

"Stay the hell away from me you psycho," commanded Liz standing up quickly and backing away from Henry.

"You don't need to fear harm or injury from me Miss Montgomery. I made a promise to your sister to see that you received what she left to you. In essence I feel that she made me responsible for your well-being and see you kept safe from harm."

"So because my sister asked you to give me a fucking password you decide that you need to kill a woman to keep me out of jail?"

"To put it bluntly, yes."

"That doesn't give you the right to just kill someone."

"I've never felt bad about killing vermin," said Henry.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" demanded Liz.

"Are you aware of the prevalence of the sex trade in the United Kingdom Miss Montgomery?"

"What, like the tarts wandering the streets?"

"No, the child sex trade. In recent years it's been growing exponentially, but as of yet it's been mostly kept out of the spotlight. Gangs, primarily Pakistani with some Indian as well as a smattering of others have been the driving force behind it. Kidnapping primarily white children to employ in the trade. The police and social workers have been tacitly ignoring it, or dismissing it for fear of being labeled racist. In essence offering up the children to the altar of appeasement and political correctness. Disgustingly spineless."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Your employer, and his wife were involved in it Miss Montgomery. Come, I want to show you something," said Henry walking towards the stairs leading to the basement. Hesitantly Liz followed him down.

"This is just a storage room," said Liz when the reached the basement. A concrete room with shelves lined with canned goods. "It's where we keep the extra stock."

"Livestock as well it would seem."

"What?" asked Liz perplexed, watching Henry knock on the wall as he walked, then stopping with it made a hollow thudding sound. He pushed a locker out of the way, revealing a locked door with a key on the wall next to it. He unlocked the door with a click and pushed it open.

There were three girls in the cramped room within that contained only one dirty mattress between them. All aged somewhere between 10-15 years old. The looked out at them with fearful, sullen eyes.

"Oh my god," breathed Liz. "All this time...I...I didn't know."

"Do not berate yourself unnecessarily Miss Montgomery, you had no reason to suspect and no reason to look. Now then I do believe that we should vacate the premises."

"But what about the bodies? What about the girls?" asked Liz gesturing.

"I have a team of men on the way that will be here shortly. They will see to the disposal of the bodies and the reunification of the girls with their families. If they still have any that is. Most are orphans or the children of addicts. The ones who fall through the cracks as it were. Do not worry Miss Montgomery, it will be as if this entire evening never happened."

"Just what the hell do you do for a living? There's no way that you're just a bodyguard."

"I am a problem solver Miss Montgomery and a very good one. Now shall we go?"

xxx

Henry sipped his tea watching Elizabeth, or Liz as she preferred, barely pick at her food even though she hadn't eaten since noon and it was approaching ten at night. Likely she wouldn't feel like eating for quite some time. She wouldn't sleep well tonight either. Fear of what she had done, the punishment, and simple guilt of taking a life would keep her awake long into the early hours of the morning.

It was striking how much she looked like her sister though. She had the same intense blue eyes that Alice had. The kind that felt like they could freeze you in place with just a look with their intensity. Or the kind that you could lose yourself in if you so cared to.

"I'm not going to sleep too well tonight am I?" asked Liz, picking at her food and slouching into the booth's bench.

"No. You won't."

"Figures as much. Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Were you there when...when Alice died?"

"Yes, I was."

"Was it quick?"

"No, it wasn't."

"Fuck," sighed Liz burying her head in her hands. "How did she die?"

"She was shot twice in the back when we were trying to extract. Our employer managed to escape, but we did not. I attempted to carry her to help, but she expired before we could reach aid."

"Don't say that."

"Say what?"

"Expired. My sister isn't a jug of milk. Just say died. She's a person and she died. She didn't expire like some moldy apples."

"I will moderate my language in the future Miss Montgomery."

"What happened to the guy who killed her?"

"Killed in turn by my hand."

"Good," growled Liz.

"I feel like I should caution you on the properties of revenge Miss Montgomery, but it would be entirely too hypocritical for me to do so. I am entirely addicted to it."

"So what happens now?" asked Liz, pushing her cup of tea back and forth between her hands.

"Well that depends on you Miss Montgomery. What do you want to happen?"

"That's just it, I don't really know. The last two days have pretty much shattered the life I had and with Alice dead I…I," said Liz, voice breaking and she began to sob.

Henry put a hand on her shoulder after a moment of watching her sob to try and comfort her, if he really could at all. After a time she regained control of her emotions and wiping roughly at her eyes, she beat back her tears.

"I'm sorry, I'm all fucked up right now."

"You have nothing to apologize for Miss Montgomery, the past few days have been very traumatic for you."

"Just call me Liz okay? You sound like my old English teacher with that Miss Montgomery shit."

"Very well then Liz."

"Did you know my sister well?"

"I worked with her for two years so I came to understand her quite well. She was...passionate and possessed a levity to her that few in her line of work manage to maintain. Almost a kind of innocence. I considered her a friend, though she may not have."

"So you were never a couple then?"

"No, our relationship was strictly professional."

"Did she ever talk about me, or mom?"

"Never to me."

"Fucking figures," huffed Liz.

"Do not be too harsh on your sister. More often than not people wish to say things or make right with their family, yet never do. They believe that the time is not right, or perhaps believe that a better time will come in the future. Sometimes they are too afraid to be the one to make the move and so they put it off. When that time runs out and the person is gone, they are left with regret with what they never said, or never did. We are all victims of time Liz. Know that you were in her thoughts right until the end. Her last thoughts were of you and your well-being even when she knew that she was going to die. Know that she cared for you, even if it was not readily shown."

Henry paused as Liz began to cry again.

"I should have been the one to call her, but I was too fucking stubborn," mewled Liz, burying her face in her hands.

"This is not for your entertainment," said Henry, an edge to his voice as he fixed his steely gaze as some of the staring patrons in the diner.

"Can we go?" sniffled Liz.

"Of course. Where would you like to go?"

"Anywhere just-let's just get out of here."

Henry threw some money on the table and followed her outside. They walked in silence for a while before Liz broke it.

"This might sound kind of fucked up, but can you spend the night with me? I don't want to be alone tonight."

"Of course Liz."

"I don't want sex or nothing like that, I just..."

"You don't need to explain yourself Liz, I understand more than you realize."

"Thanks. Heh, still kind of fucked up though right? I'm inviting a guy I just met and who stabbed someone to death to spend the night with me alone."

"It depends on your perspective I suppose," admitted Henry.

Xxx

When Liz finally did manage to fall into a fitful sleep, it was three in the morning and she was curled up in a fetal position on her well-worn couch. A blanket wrapped around her, lines of still drying tears on her face. She had been silent, but Henry had still known that she had been weeping. It would take many years for the wound that caused those tears to flow to heal. Henry understood that all too well. Still, the matter was not yet closed.

Henry took out his cellphone and placed a call, it rang several times before it was answered.

"Hello?" came a groggy voice from the other end.

"Hello Ville."

"Henry? Jesus, what time is it?"

"5:02AM where you are now. I had some business to take care of before I called you."

"Of course, what can I help you with?"

"It has to do with your daughter Ville."

"Ingrid? Look I know that she left you and that other girl behind, but-"

"Calm yourself Ville, I am not angry about that. Her extraction was the primary objective, Alice and I knew that well. We were secondary. However, there is one detail that troubles me greatly."

"What is it?"

"Alice Montgomery left a sizable sum of money to her sister and yet when I go to transfer the money to her sister, imagine my surprise when I find that the account has already been emptied. The amount of money is of no consequence, I intend to cover the amount myself to the sister, but what I can not stand is that someone stole from a dead woman who was leaving everything she could to her family. A woman whose last request was _stolen_ by some thief. Now understandably this makes me quite upset, angry you could say."

"What does this have to do with my daughter?"

"The list of people who could have known about that money is very short Ville. _Very_ short. I am willing to give your daughter the benefit of the doubt, for the time being. Find out who did it and give me a name. If you lie to me I will find out. If it is your daughter who is responsible, I take what action I deem appropriate."

"She is still my daughter Henry."

"And you know that you couldn't stop me even if you spent your entire fortune to do so Ville. Have a good day."

Henry ended the call and put his cellphone away. He was not entirely sure how invested he should become in Elizabeth's life. He had only been asked to deliver an account and password number to her, and yet he had covered up a double murder, one which he had committed himself and seen to the rescue of three young girls. Girls who could give their description to the authorities and undue all of the obfuscation that he had orchestrated. Were they adults they would be among the dead, but they were not adults, and Henry would never sanction violence against children.

He could just leave her be, bid her adieu and take his leave. Yet somehow that felt like it would be...wrong. Someone had wronged her family, stole from the dead and attempted to deny last rights. If she so chose, he would give her a chance for revenge. He would caution her as to the dangers of seeking it, but in the end it would be her choice. Then again, his presence invited death. Best to slip away before it came knocking on her door.

Unbidden an image of Alice smiling and dressed in combat fatigues came to his mind. His mind in a traitorous act began replaying their experiences from the past two years. It ended the way that he knew it would with a spray of blood and the look of shock and pain of her face. Yet she had been defiant to the end. Henry realized that he had truly cared for Alice. Perhaps even begun to love her. He may not owe her sister anything, but he owed a debt that he could never repay for letting her die for letting his guard down. He would watch over her sister, take her under her wing if she desired it. And if she wanted, help her seek any revenge she so chose. If she really wanted to, he would introduce her into the Consortium.

Xxx

"I'm sure that it was all just a misunderstanding Mr. Dagher."

"Of course, of course, I never meant any harm at all I assure you Mr. Black. The council still has my full support."

"Then I am glad that we have resolved this issue so readily. Please, have a good day Mr. Dagher."

"Of course, of course, you as well Mr. Black. Stay as long as you like at my hotel, free of charge. Any accommodation you like will be made."

"Your hospitality is overwhelming Mr. Dagher and I thank you for it. However I must soon leave Dubai so unfortunately I will be unable to take advantage of it."

"Of course, of course, safe travels Mr. Black," smiled Dagher until the elevator doors closed and Henry was lost from sight.

"Why did you prostrate yourself before that man father? He is nothing but some foreigner trying to tell us how to do our business."

"No son, he is much more than that. The Consortium casts a long shadow and within that shadow it has many hands. That was its right hand just speaking to us, the bloody hand. I fear him more than I do a hundred other men. He has absolute discretion to use whatever methods or take whatever action he so chooses. He has the full backing of the council behind him. His words are their words, his actions are theirs."

"I still don't understand why you fear one man so father."

"Son, I am getting old now and one day you will succeed me. When that day comes I will tell you everything you will need to know. Until that day listen to your father."

"As you wish father."

xxx

"Are you feeling any better today?" asked Henry to Liz. They were sitting in an open air cafe in a duty free district displaying high end jewelry, electronics, chocolates, and clothes.

"Well I'm a pale ginger white girl in Dubai and it's 40 degrees Celsius out with a blazing sun so not really no," said Liz, hair plastered to her face with sweat and obvious signs of sunburn on her cheeks and nose despite the generous helpings of sunscreen she applied and wide-brimmed hat on her head.

"Christ in the paras I was pissed that I never went to Afghanistan, but if it's anything like this I say thank fucking god I didn't go. How in the hell do you look so fresh still?"

"I acclimatize quickly."

"Lucky bastard. You spend a lot of time in the Middle East before?"

"A great deal of time in fact."

"Doing what?"

"Killing mostly."

"Jesus, sorry I asked," said Liz.

"It is no trouble," said Henry calmly sipping a tea.

"How can you drink hot tea in this kind of weather? I feel like I'm being slow broiled over here."

"I am quite fond of my tea-well speak of the devil," said Herny, genuine surprise in his voice.

"What?" asked Liz craning her neck to get a look at whatever Henry was.

"Don't look, keep looking at me," said Henry quickly, but calmly.

"What's going on?" asked Liz, suddenly tense and excited. Getting a pre-combat adrenaline rush.

"Behind you is Koko Hekmatyar, a notorious arms dealer."

"So are we in danger then?" asked Liz, hand going to her purse which contained a browning hi-power.

"No, I merely had not expected to see her again."

"Is she a big deal?"

"In the arms trade, very. Globally? A mere footnote. Were her empire to fall a dozen smaller competitors would take over very rapidly. No, it is her father who is the real power. Floyd Hekmatyar, shipping mogul and multi-billionaire, he has the ear of some very powerful people in the EU."

"So why were you so concerned when you saw her?"

"Not concerned, merely surprised. It is a remarkable coincidence though."

"I don't really believe in coincidences love. What?" asked Liz, noticing an odd look come over Henry's face.

"It's nothing," said Henry. "Just thinking. Liz."

"Yeah?"

"Get down!"

"Wha-oof!" grunted Liz as in one smooth motion Henry flipped the table they were sitting at and pulled her to the ground with him just as gunfire erupted across the plaza.

"What the hell is going on?" demanded Liz pulling out her pistol.

"It would appear that Miss Hekmatyar is the target of an assassination attempt and we're caught in the middle of it."

"Shit, alright then," said Liz getting up to line up a shot with her Browing, only to get pulled back down into cover.

"What are you doing?" demanded Liz.

"This doesn't concern us and it would be best if we didn't get involved. Now follow me. Ready? Move!"


	3. Chapter 3

There are those who seek weapons for the cause of their god. Believing their cause to be holy and just, they will strike down any who dare threaten the divinity of their lord god or their chance at salvation. Who in their zealotry will strike down any who dare question their beliefs.

 _July 15th 1099 AD Jerusalem_

"It is not a crime to kill a heretic! It is the path to heaven! We retake this city in the name of Jesus Christ and our Lord God! With this crucible of battle, your sins shall we wiped clean and forgiven by God almighty and the path to heaven will open to all of you! Rejoice, you do gods work here!"

The priest's voice was thundering and powerful, promising salvation and rescue from eternal damnation. All that was needed was to spill a little heretical blood. A shallow price to pay for paradise indeed.

Sir William Blackwood was one such soul seeking redemption. A member of the Templar Knights hailing from England who had answered the call to liberate the holy land in a great crusade. For redemption and salvation he would strike down any number of heretics. Cut down any who stood in his way.

Clad in heavy steel armour emblazoned with a bold red cross on the front of a white surcoat, he led the charge through the crumbled gatehouse and into the holy city. Halberd in hand he cleaved a man in half who tried to arrest his charge. Cutting through armour, flesh, and bone in one clean swing. Then he cut down a second and a third. Then a forth and a fifth.

Every twirl, every strike of his halberd saw another life ended, saw another brick laid in his path to heaven. To sweet redemption and forgiveness.

The city was on fire, black smoke filled the blue sky above and hungry fires greedily devoured all they touched. The cries of ten thousand men and the wails of ten thousand women filled the air, fighting with the clash of steel, rending of flesh, and crumbling stone for dominance.

Sir Blackwood fought like a demon even though he sought entry into heaven. No one could stand before him, his halberd moving in blinding arcs and loops around him, never stopping. Never ceasing. His white surcoat was quickly turning red, matching the crimson cross stitched to it. Soon obscuring it completely in a layer of wet blood.

Sir Blackwood's halberd finally broke when he tried to cleave a man from shoulder to groin with it. The steel head embedding in the man's collarbone, and he grasped at it in disbelief before falling to the ground.

Another guard tried to run Sir Blackwood through with a sword, but instead received the broken haft of the halberd through his throat and the Templar rammed him into the ground.

It was then that Blackwood realized that he had charged far ahead of the main crusader force and was alone. There was at least twenty soldiers of the Fatimid Caliphate arrayed before him. Cautious, almost fearful of the crusader knight drenched in blood and surrounded by dead men.

"No man will stop my salvation. No man will impede my atonement. No man will halt my entry into heaven. Do you hear me followers of Mohammad? DO YOU HEAR ME HERETICS?!" roared Sir Blackwood, drawing his longsword and charging.

He cut down the fist man before he was even aware of what was happening, then leaned out of the way of another man's wild swing before crusader steel cut down the Fatimid soldier in turn. With inhuman skill and strength, Sir Blackwood cut down every man who stood before him. More demon than angel.

He tore limbs from bodies, stripped flesh from bone, and crushed any who dared to stand in his way. Sir Blackwood fought far into the holy city, stopping only when those who did see him turned and ran from the man literally dripping blood. Even surrounded by such death and carnage, the crusader let out a joyous laugh. His salvation was finally at hand.

He pushed open the door into the Church of the Holy Sepulchure, leaving a bloody handprint on the thick wood. Christians who lived in Jerusalem let out gasps of fear at the sight of him, yet he paid them no mind. He could feel it. He could feel his salvation at hand! Images of the apostles, of the angels, of the Virgin Mary herself watched him stride to the front of the church, bloody sword in hand, steel armoured boots thundered on the stone floor.

He stopped in front of the statue of Jesus Chris depicted at the time of his crucifixion. Sir Blackwood tore off his helmet and cast it to the side, the steel helm clanging and bouncing away, finally free of its confines. Finally free of his sins! How good it felt! How joyous! He opened his arms wide and turned his head heavenwards. He eagerly awaited his salvation that he had been so promised. His long journey was finally, mercifully at an end after all these long years.

Xxx

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," cursed Liz over and over again as she and Henry ran to the decorative stone pillars supporting the overhang to the shops around them, only to have to trust that same stone to keep them alive as rounds started thudding into them.

Liz's heart was up in her throat and her blood was pounding in her ears. She was holding her pistol in both hands, waiting for a lull in the barrage so that she could return fire. Looking over at Henry, she saw that he was nonchalantly leaning against the pillar that he was hiding behind and checking his phone.

"Are you calling for help?" asked Liz.

"No, just checking my email, I forgot to do it this morning," said Henry.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" demanded Liz, her voice rising to a shrill screech.

"No, if I forget to do it they just keep building up and then I have to sit down for at least two hours to sift through them and reply. This would be a good time to shoot back by the way."

"Jesus Christ!" cursed Liz rapidly letting off a trio of shots before ducking back behind the stone pillar as return fire came her way.

"Where's your gun?"

"I didn't bring one. I honestly didn't think that I would need one."

"Then what the bloody hell do you have?"

By way of reply Henry took a small knife out of his pocket and hit a button causing the steel blade to pop out.

"Bollocks! So I'm the only one with a gun?!"

"I did hire you as my bodyguard Liz."

"Yeah, yeah, I fucking know," said Liz firing a few more rounds at the pair of assassins before ducking back into cover.

"Besides, this is Dubai, not Somalia. Hear that? That's the police coming and with them an end to this ill conceived assassination attempt."

"Aw fuck me sideways."

"What?" asked Henry.

"They've got a fucking grenade launcher."

"These people have no sense of propriety. Using such heavy weapons in the middle of the day in public. I suppose they want their faces plastered on every news station in the world. Henry rubbed at his ears when a 40mm grenade exploded and took a police car with it.

"And why not murder the local police while they're at it? Not like cop killers are hunted down with special vigor. If these are professionals, it's with their skill in killing only, other than that they're rank amateurs. If I ever were to be so sloppy I'd hang my head in shame."

"Love, the way you're talking it sounds like you were a hitman."

Liz got a smile in reply that made her stomach sink, for it wasn't a kind smile, more like a smile one gives another when they have been let in on a rather dark secret. Liz cringed as another explosion rocked the square and she rubbed at her ears.

"Jesus that's loud,"muttered Liz.

"Hmm, more of Koko's bodyguards," said Henry idly.

Liz peered around the corner of the pillar that she was hiding behind to see one of them at least. A gray haired man that looked like he was pushing sixty, but moved like a man half that age.

"Liz, stay in Cover," said Henry, a moment before a Kalashnikov roared to life and began shredding apart anything that moved.

"Hmm, those aren't military surplus rounds they're using. They sound almost match grade. And yet he's burning through them by shooting on full auto. Like throwing money away. Liz, hold your fire."

"What? Why?"

"They're ignoring us for the moment. We are unimportant for the time being and we aren't their target. They are entirely fixated on Koko and her party. Now would be the perfect time to leave."

"So what then? They're just going to let us walk away?"

"Of course not Liz, they'd shoot us in the back. Whoever hired these buffoons made the mistake of hiring assassins who kill for pleasure rather than money. Absolutely unreliable rabid dogs. Now, when I say to move run from pillar to pillar. I'll be right behind you."

"Damn love, aren't I supposed to be the one telling you how to keep safe?"

"Maybe when you're older Liz."

"Wanker," muttered Liz a sour look on her face. "FUCK!" cursed Liz as white hot pain coursed up her leg and it gave out underneath her. She hit the ground hard and clutched at her leg, gritting her teeth to bite back the pain. A steady flow of bloody leaking out from her leg. Liz saw the man who had shot her, a wildly grinning man with a Kalashnikov who looked very much like he planned on finishing the job.

Before he could though, a strong hand grabbed the front of her blouse roughly and yanked her back up and behind the pillar she had been hiding behind a moment before rounds tore up the ground where she had just been laying.

Her face was pressed into Henry's chest, an unyielding mass of iron hard muscle and he held her as if he were the one protecting her from the bullets, not the stone pillar. His eyes were different now. Focused, and resolute where before they had been almost bored.

"You won't be able to run now."

"Yeah, no shit," hissed Liz in pain.

"I'm going to bandage your leg, hold still."

"Oka-whoa!" exclaimed Liz as she was spun around and quickly put against the stone column. The next thing she knew, Henry had his knife out and had cut open her pant leg on her injured leg. Then he was cutting strips out of his silk dress shirt to use for gauze and then cut his Hugo Boss suit jacket for a strip to tie it all around with. He did it with practiced ease and it seemed that he had just begun and then he was already finished.

"How's that?"

"Still hurts. A lot," grunted out Liz as if short of breath.

"Maybe, but you'll live. Now, get ready to move."

"What? How-okay then!" sputtered Liz in surprise as Henry picked her up bridal style. The next thing she knew, they were rushing from pillar to pillar, Henry moving no slower carrying her than he did unencumbered.

Liz almost shot a shockingly pale woman with white hair in surprise as they almost collided with each other, or rather Henry and her almost did.

"Oh! Fancy running into you here again Henry, how have you been?" asked the pale woman, a small southeast Asian boy suffering from some form of albinism with a gun at her side.

"Now is not the time to discuss this Miss Hekmatyar," said Henry, never breaking stride.

"Oh come on now, it's been awhile since I've seen you last. Who's the new girl? Your new partner? She doesn't look like your boss."

"I would advise you to focus on running and less on talking Miss Hekmatyar."

"Oh, I'll be fine with Jonah here watching over me. Are you sure that you don't want to come and work for me? It could be fun."

"I am most decisive on that matter Miss Hekmatyar."

"Your friend is bleeding," observed Koko."

"I fucking know I am!" retorted Liz hotly.

"So you like the English girls huh?" continued Koko with a smirk, seemingly oblivious to the present danger. "The first one is just a coincidence, the second is a fixation."

"Go fuck yourself you albino bitch!" yelled Liz.

"Really bad mouth though, oi love?" mocked Koko adopting a fake Cockney accent.

"Can I shoot her? Can I fucking shoot her?!" demanded Liz.

"Calm yourself Liz, getting worked up will serve no purpose."

"Calm? I have a bloody hole in my leg!"

"It's bloody because it's a bullet hole," said Koko.

"I'm going to fucking shoot her!"

"Liz, enough," said Henry curtly.

"Company," said the boy with red eyes as with a screech of tires a red truck rounded the block and accelerated right for them."

"This is where we part ways Miss Hekmatyar," said Henry and with a leap cleared small wall separating the beach from the road. Quickly pushing both himself and Liz flat behind it to avoid fire from the approaching truck.

"Fu-UCK!" hissed Liz, very nearly crying at the pain as her leg impacted the ground..

"I know it hurts, but you're doing good."

"Fuck off!" retorted the Brit testily as gunfire erupted above them and them slowly passed them It intensified, but grew more faint with each passing second. Henry kept both Liz and himself pressed flat to the ground for several minutes as the chase continued with revving engines and eventually HMG fire. Henry was intimately aware of every detail going on, like everything had taken an unreal quality to it. It was always the same whenever he was in combat Finally ending in an explosion. One final gunshot followed by a woman screaming that she would kill Koko and it was over.

"Are you alright Liz?"

"No, but I'll live," said the girl through gritted teeth as Henry helped her to her feet. "Oh look, the police. Nice that they show up after all the fucking gunfire," muttered Liz darkly.

"Be nice Liz. The ones who were dedicated to their job were killed with a grenade launcher. These are the smart ones."

"Hah, you're a right comedian ain't ya love?" giggled Liz.

"He's not Arabic," noted Henry as a blonde man got out of the car with a policeman, before pushing him out of the way and making his way to Henry and Liz.

"Alright you two, get in the car."

"May I ask what for?"

"No, you may not."

"Then I am afraid I will have to ask anyway. On whose authority to you detain us?"

"The authority of a concerned citizen."

"That authority seems to be lacking weight if I do say so."

"Yeah, well fuck what you say, now get in the damned car. We've got more than enough to go on to take you in. You were running with the arms dealer Koko Hekmatyar and talking with her."

"Yes, running for our lives from a pair of crazy killers, one of which went and shot my friend here. Also may I ask how you will have room for this woman called Koko Hekamtyar if me and my associate occupy the backseat of you car? My friend as I feel I must reiterate does need medical attention immediately. By the way, your badge is showing."

By way of reflex the man glanced towards where his badge would be, were it not hidden from view by his suit jacket.

"Ah to hell with it," cursed the man, pulling out a cellphone and taking a picture of Henry. "I'm not done with you yet, don't you forget it. Scarecrow's coming for ya! Come on!" yelled the man to the cop with him and in an instant they were racing towards where Koko had gone.

"What a buffoon, wouldn't you agree Liz?"

"Hole...in my fucking leg," hissed Liz.

"Ah, right. We should get that fixed."

"Ya fucking think?"

Xxx

"Hello?" asked a raspy voice with glimmer of youth left in it.

"Hello Maxine, this is Henry."

"Good evening Henry, what can I do for you?"

"I had a run in today with a man, I believe he may have been CIA agent. Maybe Interpol...no, Interpol doesn't hire idiots like that. He seemed incompetent and brash, but I believe that I piqued his interest. He goes by the handle of Scarecrow, could be a false name, perhaps just him mocking me, but he didn't seem that smart. A young man, Caucasian, blonde, brown eyes, in his later twenties."

"Is he a danger to you?"

"Hardly. I just like to take precautions whenever I have a run in with the various alphabet agencies. I want you to find out all that you can about him and what he does. He seems to be obsessed with the arms dealer Koko Hekmatyar and since he believes that I am associated with her, he may very well become obsessed with me as well. Such a thing is of course an inconvenience to me, one in which I would like to avoid if at all possible."

"That's life mon ami, not much we can do about it. Regardless I think I still owe you a favor or two that I need to repay. I shall call you when I have learned everything that I can about this Scarecrow fellow. Would you like known associates as well or just the man?"

"I suppose I should be thorough, a list of his known associates would be very much appreciated."

"I'll send it express when I've finished. Same address as before?"

"Come now Maxine, everyone uses email in this day and age. Just email it to me once you have it all together."

"Bah, I'm too old for that nonsense. Have to get my damned nephew to show me how to even use the internet. I should introduce him to you actually, he's a bright boy, just thinks that he's going to be a famous rapper. Cette petite merde," muttered the Frenchman grouchily.

"Does he wear the baggy pants and hat twisted sideways?"

"Oui, and he wears gold chains and some kind of fancy sneakers," admitted Maxine sounding embarrassed at the fact.

"Oh no, really?" chuckled Henry.

"You can't pick family mon ami. Next time you're in Brest we should catch up, for old times sake."

"We should. Is that cafe still open? You know, the one who was run by that Hungarian couple?"

"Non, it closed down ten years ago."

"Has it really been that long?" asked Henry genuinely surprised.

"Yes, but do not worry, I know of another spot that will let us drink more wine than we should. I'll contact you when I have the details that you're looking for."

"Thanks again Maxine, take care."

"You as well."

Henry hung up and went in from the balcony into the hospital room where Liz was still high as a kite on pain medication and puckering up her lips at a fish on the tv.

"Blub, blub, blub," said Liz. "Hey. Heeeeeey," continued the redhead, noticing that Henry had come back into the room, slurring her words like she was drunk.

"Yes Liz?"

"Come here, I want to tell you something," slurred his bodyguard.

"What do you want to tell me Liz?"

"You have a nice bum. It's not too big, but it's also not too small, and I like looking at it. It's nice and firm," Liz smiled a dopey smile after she said it. It remained in place as her hand traveled to his rear and began stroking his butt. Henry politely took her hand off of his posterior and placed it at her side.

"The flattery is most unnecessary Liz."

"Your shirt is soft, I like it," said the girl, rubbing his ripped silk shirt. "You should take it off."

"It's time to get some sleep Liz, you've had a long day," said Henry, politely, but firmly taking Liz's hand off of his stomach and putting it back under her blankets, before tucking her in like she was a child.

"Hey Henry?"

"Yes Liz?"

"Do you think I have a nice bum?"

"You have a wonderful bum Liz," assured Henry, getting a happy grin in response before the drugged girl closed her eyes and let out a contented sigh.

"Well I'm not going to let you touch it. It's my bum." She was snoring within moments rather loudly and Henry couldn't help but let out a contented smirk. He didn't know why, but he enjoyed having someone brash and impulsive in his life. Perhaps he just enjoyed having someone to travel with again after having spent so many years working alone. Working with Alice had rekindled the desire to have a partner within him, and like any good flame; once it took light it turned into a raging inferno.

He stroked Liz's brow once and left the room, startling a nurse on the other side of the door.

"Mr. Black," said the woman, in surprisingly good and nearly unaccented English.

"I'm stepping out for a while, and I'm not sure when I'll be back, if Miss Montgomery wakes before I return be sure to tell her to reach me at this number," said Henry handing a slip of paper to the nurse. "Have a good day."

"Of course Mr. Black," assured the nurse.

"Oh one more thing," said Henry after taking a few more steps, half turning as if having forgot to tell her something.

"Yes Mr. Black?"

"No one else is to get that number. Understand?"

"Of course Mr. Black," answered the nurse politely, but her mouth feeling dry as she watched the blonde man leave. He had been courteous, polite even in his request, but his eyes had been anything but. They had seemed to promise pain and untold suffering.

Xxx

Henry had to make his way to the police station to give a statement, it was a matter of due process after all and it wasn't worth pulling the political strings to get out of what had transpired completely. The gun that Liz had in her possession was legal, they had acted only in self-defense, and had no reason to be wary of the police or delay the proceedings. After allowing himself to get a new suit that is.

It would be a quick process, one that would see him soon forgotten and the file buried under the mountain of day to day work that crossed the desks of the local police department. It went without incident and once he was done he paused for a moment on the concrete furnishings outside the police department to review his emails.

Most were junk or of little importance, mere day to day things that he was to be kept appraised of. Stock prices, political news, and other inconsequential things. One did grab hold of his attention and hold it hostage.

ANINA said hello.

Henry let out a smile despite the trepidation he felt at those words. On one hand it was exciting and on the other it was completely terrifying.

Leaving the digital world though, Henry noticed in the real one, he was once again confronted with Koko Hekmatyar.

She was not glib this time though, hiding all she knew behind a Cheshire grin. This time she looked frightened, fidgety, wary, and very much her age. She was also alone.

"You look uncertain Miss Hekmatyar," said Henry and just like that all of what he had just been watching disappeared behind a mask that Koko seemed to be able to put in place at will.

"Henry!" exclaimed Koko with far too much candor and cheer to be natural. "Fancy seeing you here, you get in trouble again?"

"Merely dealing with the trouble from this morning. I see that you are alone, your bodyguards have been detained then I presume?"

"Oh, they're just not allowed to leave the hotel is all, no big deal," said Koko with a dismissive wave of her hand.

"It wouldn't be no, were there not a woman intent on your death stalking you," countered Henry. The smile slipped then, but only for the tiniest moment and only at the very edges of the mask.

"Oh don't be so doom and gloom," admonished the albino girl. "It's not like she's waiting around the next bush ready for me."

"She very well could be. I really must be going now Miss Hekmatyar, please have a good day."

"What? You're going to leave me alone here? That's now a very gentlemanly thing to do you know!" berated the arms dealer gesturing forcefully at Henry's retreating form.

"No, I suppose it's not. Where would you like to go Miss Hekmatyar?"

Henry was surprised at very few things in his life, one that happened to surprise him though was an arms dealer wrapping herself around his arm and smiling up at him.

"I don't know, around," answered Koko coyly.

"You are an odd woman Miss Hekmatyar."

"Please, call me Koko."

They walked for a short distance in silence before Koko began asking the questions that he had known she would.

"So tell me, where does a man with your skill get his training from?"

"There are many places where one could learn what he needs to in order to survive."

"Would that also involve learning how to dodge questions?" prodded the arms dealer.

"Of course."

"Well tell me this then, why are you walking with me? There's a crazy killer after me you know," said Koko in a sing-song voice.

"You did pester me Koko."

"Oh come on, it wasn't that much pestering and you look a guy who can take some bothering."

"You wouldn't be wrong Koko."

"Did anyone ever tell you that you're frustrating to talk to?" asked Koko with a frown.

"Many times."

"Okay, so why are you walking with me then?"

"Maybe I just like walking with a beautiful woman?"

"You know what? I'm going to accept that answer because I like it the most," said Koko with a grin and giving Henry a wink. "Now how about another compliment huh? I like those. What do you find most interesting about me? Hmm?"

"Are you quite serious Koko?"

"Quite."

"You do have a way with mockery don't you Koko?"

"Come on, answer the question."

"Very well. You embody your profession even in your physical appearance."

"Oh? How do you figure that?" It seemed an innocent enough question, but there seemed to be an edge below Koko's words. Like an anger that had been wrestled back down into submission a moment before bursting free.

"Your first name is Japanese, yet your family name is Persian. Your ethnicity appears Caucasian, but to pin it down to one area would be nearly impossible. You have traits of the Saxons, Slavs, and a host of others. You call no country home, yet can make yourself at home anywhere you go. You are a person not bound to any one land, yet can offer your services anywhere you go. You yourself are like the weapons you sell. A weapon has no loyalty except to the one wielding it. It picks no favorites and functions only as it meant to."

"You make me sound evil witch with no loyalty, that's not nice Henry."

"There is no disrespect in what I said Koko. A weapon is neither good nor evil, it is simply a force that can be utilized for either side. It has no hate, no bias, no attachment, and no favorites. There is no malice in what it does, It simply does as it is meant to do. Perhaps it is used to kill a young man for daring to think differently, perhaps it is used to put food on the table for a starving family. Maybe it is used to overthrow a tyrant and usher in an era of peace. It is a neutral thing. You merely let people act out the desires in their heart."

"Most of their desires involve killing."

"So it does. There is evil in the heart of man Koko, but also good. It is just that the evil always tries to bully itself to the fore."

"You know, you're a lot deeper of a thinker than you appear Henry. Do you want me to tell you what I find most interesting about you?"

"I would be intrigued Koko."

"The fact you're wearing a wool suit in Dubai! It's like holding onto a freaking furnace!" exclaimed the arms dealer letting go and shaking her hands as if they were burned from the contact. "It's like you're trying to charbroil yourself!"

Despite himself Henry laughed at the antics of the young woman.

"Are you sure it wasn't the fact that when you were feeling around for where I keep my gun that you didn't find Koko?"

For a split second there was a look of surprise on the arms dealer's face, like that of a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar so to speak.

"Do not worry yourself too much Koko, your skills haven't degraded at all. I merely am not carrying one."

"What? After this morning you don't have a gun on you? What about the one you had earlier?" asked Koko incredulous.

"That belonged to my bodyguard, not me and quite frankly I don't feel I need a gun. Not yet at least."

"You like older weapons right? Last I saw you were carrying a M1 Thompson submachine gun, a K98 Mauser rifle and a colt 1911. What's the story behind that?"

"Why all this interest in me Miss Hekmatyar?"

"I sell weapons, so I'm curious why you use such obsolete weapons."

"They may be old, but they still work quite well. In addition getting old war surplus is both cheap and easy."

"It is, but not from wars fought over half a century ago. If ease of acquisition was the case you would be using a Kalashnikov variant, maybe something from the M16 family or even an FN FAL. Those things are littering the market right now and you could buy those as easily as a soda on the street corner. Hey, are you listening to me?" huffed Koko to Henry who was currently buying something from a street vendor.

"For you complexion," said Henry handing a white umbrella to Koko.

"Oh, how considerate, thank you," said Koko opening the umbrella and resting it on her shoulder.

"My bodyguard has a terrible time with her pale skin in Dubai, so with you being several shades lighter I assumed that you would appreciate it."

"Oh I do. Sometimes I forget that I burn like kindling in the sun when something grabs my attention. I have to say though, why don't you want to work for me? I would offer a steady paycheck and you would have a team of people that you could depend on. You seem to do mostly freelance, or you did before this job. You were the bodyguard and now you have one. What's with the sudden change in careers?"

"I haven't changed careers Koko, I still am what I always have been."

"And what might that be?"

"A problem solver."

"How was being a bodyguard solving a problem?"

"That was more of a favor than anything else."

"Really? Well you were that woman's bodyguard for two years. How big was that favor?"

"Time is relative Koko, the fact of the matter is that the terms of the contract were satisfied."

"Okay, well how about as a favor you come and work for me for a few years? You never know, you might like it."

"You know nothing about me Koko, why so adamant about trying to hire me?"

"I know you went through twenty men with nothing but an ax and a knife and before that took on another full platoon after being ambushed by yourself. I like skill Henry and I like to surround myself with soldiers who are especially good at what they do."

There was a change to Koko's voice as she spoke. It wasn't jovial or coy. It wasn't even conversational. It was almost as if a darker side of the woman had taken over and was speaking to him now. Was this the true face of the arms dealer, or merely another facet? It was incredibly hard to tell.

"I have many skills Koko, but I fear that I am entirely loyal to my current source of employment. Your persistence is admirable, but entirely fruitless I am afraid."

"Oh come on, at least consider it," said Koko, voice switching to that of a petulant child. So quick did she switch the masks that even Henry was having trouble seeing the real face beneath. He would see a flicker of it here or there and then it would be gone as if it had never been anything more than an illusion. "I mean I'm not _that_ bad to work for."

"You are used to getting your way aren't you Koko?"

"Every time all the time."

"Then I believe I will have to be one of the few to refuse you."

"Oh that's no fun, yes is so much better. I'll even let your red haired friend come along too, how about that?"

"Once again, I must humbly decline your generous offer Koko."

"Well this sucks," huffed the arms dealer. "This day just keeps getting worse and worse."

"You are still alive, so in your line of work I would call that a very good day."

"You're not helping," grumbled Koko.

"Koko."

"Wha-ah!" cried out the arms dealer startled as Henry pulled her down. The crack of a pistol sent two bullets careening through the umbrella that Henry had bought Koko. For an instant, and only an instant, Henry saw through all the masks and saw the real Koko. She was terrified.

Acting without thinking and ignoring any distractions, Henry rushed the shooter, grabbing hold of the gun and forcing it out of the way as it let loose another round, this one careening high into the sky. The spent casing hit Henry as it ejected, searing the flesh where it touched. In an instant he had the would be assassin on the ground with her arm behind her back. The same girl from earlier.

"Let me go! I said Let me go! I have to kill her! If you get in my way, I'll kill you too!" shrieked the girl, almost past the point of recognizable speech.

"Are you alright Koko?"

"You're hired!" cheered the arms dealer, giving Henry a thumbs up even as she was still still sitting on the ground from being pulled down.

"I'll deal with this Koko, do not worry. Return to the hotel with your bodyguards."

"Are you sure?"

"Very."

"Alright, see ya big guy. Remember: job offer, great benefits, stellar boss, superb coworkers, and awesome explosions!" yelled the arms dealer even as she ran away.

"Get off of me," growled the girl underneath him.

"I don't think I will."

"You going to kill me?"

"I thought about it, but I would like to avoid that outcome if I can."

"You going to try to fuck me?"

"Much too young for my tastes. Now tell me, why try to fulfill a contract with no escape route and no way of getting paid?"

"She killed the Mistro, she has to pay," seethed the girl, writhing in his grip like an eel. Henry actually had to adjust his hold on the girl so that she would not break her own arm struggling against him.

"Ah, vengeance is it? A vendetta is always cause for retribution."

"So let me kill her!"

"Tell me, what would killing her get you? What would it bring back to you that you've lost? Once you're dead the hope of anything new vanishes."

"There is nothing without the Mistro! You hear me? NOTHING!"

It was more like being shrieked at than actually having a conversation with the girl, but she was a girl. If she was a woman it was just barely and killing children always left such a sickening feeling in his stomach that Henry would have trouble eating for a long time afterwords if he was forced to end this girl's life.

Henry held the girl down as she cursed and shrieked at him, thrashing wildly until she had tired herself out and lay still, like a stallion finally broken in the arena and accepting of its fate.

"What is your name?"

"Why do you care?"

"I want to know your name. Mine is Henry. Henry Black."

"Chinatsu," said the girl bitterly.

"That's a lovely name Chinatsu."

"Don't lie to me. So why aren't you killing me? Hard to stomach killing a girl?"

"I've killed plenty of women in my time, do not make that mistake. I simply want to understand why you would throw away your life for this Mistro. What was he to you? A lover?"

"NO! No...he was my teacher, and my friend. I wanted to keep him safe, but I failed. He died, because of me. Because I couldn't...I wasn't good enough. We only ever wanted to make beautiful music together. It made him happy, and he made me happy. That's why I can't, I won't forgive her. I won't forgive Koko Hekmatyar for killing him!"

"So you are dead set on taking your revenge then are you?"

"Yes."

"Even if it means your life?"

"YES!"

"Then who am I to stop you?"

Chinatsu was startled when her arm was no longer being held in an iron grip and she quickly spun around so that she was on her back and gun pointing up at the man above her. A red drop fell on her face. Blood.

She had hit the man who had been holding her after all with one of her shots and he had been bleeding this entire time.

"Why aren't you afraid?" demanded Chinatsu holding the gun against the crouched mans chest.

"What do I have to be afraid of?"

Those words shocked Chinatsu and looking into the mans eyes, they were perfectly calm, even when faced with death. Just like the Mistro. Chinatsu felt a tightness in her chest that she couldn't explain and her trigger finger suddenly felt as if it was made of concrete and impossible to bend.

"I am not your enemy and I have no quarrel with you and you none with me. I stopped you so as to not see a life wasted. If you kill Koko, her guards will kill you if it means tracking you to the ends of the Earth. More than likely you will be killed in the attempt and anything that you could ever be will never come to pass. Time is too precious to throw away so idly. However, you have just cause for vengeance Chinatsu and I will not stop you from pursuing it. Your life's path is yours to walk as you see fit. Take care."

Without hesitation, without fear, Chinatsu watched the man walk away from her, knowing that she could put a bullet into his back. He was...just like the Mistro.

Chinatsu wiped the blood off her face with a finger and looked at it, then at the retreating figure of the man with no fear of death. Like a cat she licked the blood off of her finger as she watched him leave.

AN: So I always saw Chinatsu as someone who was traumatized and clung to Mistro as a replacement for her parents (Who he killed) and with her damaged psyche it made sense to me that she would immediately be looking for someone else to cling to after his death, so Chinatsu won't be dying just yet in this story :)


End file.
